Chapter Seven
It was the height of wastefulness. Flying two hours to France to sail for ten hours back to Córdoba. Zhi would've done it without a second thought a few years back when he didn't know the balance of his family’s accounts. Now, his belly ached at the expense, even though it wasn’t his dime being spent.
Stepping off Omar's private jet into the bright Nice afternoon, Zhi let out a long, weary sigh. What was he doing here? He had no time for such frivolous activities as an overnight cruise. His to-do list back at Mondego House was ever increasing.
He wouldn’t be wrong to say the list was taking on water. The estate was sinking. The booty had been looted, the coffers ransacked. He and his staff were all standing on a shaky plank. The smart thing would be to jump ship, not board
